Watch What You Say
by Manchester
Summary: Hermione has had enough. More than enough. Light years beyond enough. Don't ever make a very intelligent witch furious and not expect her to retaliate as nastily as possible with the most powerful magic closest at hand.
1. Chapter 1

Albus Dumbledore thoughtfully eyed the demure young lady seated in her chair before the Headmaster's desk and calmly staring back at him. His normal ever-present amused twinkle lurking within the elderly wizard's gaze was for once completely gone, an indication of just how serious the situation now was involving Hermione Granger's latest summons to Dumbledore's office. Another clue was the fact that her two closest friends had not been invited to this meeting, leading to only a fifth-year student and an aged man presently together in the tower room continuing to hold each others' intent look as if it were some sort of silent competition.

Blinking first and feeling a bit aggrieved over this minor defeat, Dumbledore cleared his throat. He then shot towards his visitor a rather disapproving expression. "Miss Granger, do you have any explanation for your recent actions?"

"Seventeen," promptly answered Hermione, her own face utterly blank.

Dumbledore waited a few moments for something more than that single word to be added to Miss Granger's response. When nothing else was said by her, Dumbledore began to get genuinely cranky at this actual defiance from one of his students. The latest school term was already quite stressful, what with Professor Umbridge being forced upon him as an unwanted Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher by a paranoid Minister Fudge. He didn't need this too, even if that girl in a deserted classroom had a mere hour ago performed one of the most impressive feats of magic ever sensed by Dumbledore and everyone else in Hogwarts which interrupted the entire castle's formerly peaceful weekend.

As a result of this, the Headmaster's next couple of snappish sentences had more than a touch of ire within them. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to do much better than that as an excuse for tampering with the Hogwarts wards! It shouldn't have even been possible in the first place! More important, I want to know just what you did! There's nothing actually wrong I can find with the castle protections, but they're definitely different from what they were before! Either tell me right now, Miss Granger, or you'll be facing severe punishment for this morning's commotion!"

Instead of meekly obeying as Dumbledore expected and confessing all with tears in her eyes, Hermione simply shrugged and next arose from this young lady's chair. Standing there while the Headmaster regarded her with growing astonishment, the wizard's bewilderment increased further at hearing from this composed student, "If you really want to know, sir, it'd be a great deal quicker to show you. All we need to do is to go down to the Great Hall, and you'll soon see for yourself."

Dumbledore abruptly felt a cold flicker of caution come over him, dousing with ease his immense annoyance. There was clearly something going on here, involving Miss Granger. That had to be dealt with carefully, given how close she was to Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived was vital to Albus' schemes and young Mr. Potter hadn't a very pleasant time last year while competing in the recent Tri-Wizard Tournament. The unwavering companionship and good advice provided by this girl at the time were crucial in helping Harry survive everything. Albus knew there was a real danger of permanently driving away the only person capable of destroying Voldemort for good if he acted rashly in this matter.

Making up his mind without any hesitation, the Headmaster sent towards the waiting girl a dignified nod and got to his own feet. Waving a courteous hand towards the office door, Dumbledore inquired in his most grandfatherly tone, "Very well, Miss Granger. Shall we?"

The two magical people spent the next few minutes descending from the Hogwarts tower by the castle stairs and then walking together side-by-side towards the Great Hall. Neither said a word the entire way, even though Dumbledore tried at every stride to think of what possible reasons there might be for their upcoming presence at-

*Ah, yes, lunchtime,* the Headmaster was reminded while noticing the familiar sounds drifting through the air at the pair pausing just before the open doorway at the rear of the Great Hall. Another couple of steps forward for both Albus and Hermione had the noise of the entire population at their house tables while eating and talking abruptly lower by the hall's occupants catching sight of the exact same person they'd been avidly discussing since the beginning of their meal.

It was now quiet enough so that the whole school there next saw and heard Hermione turn to a startled Headmaster and bitterly inform him, "Seventeen times just for the last _week_ alone, Professor! Wait right here and see how number eighteen gets said straight into my face!"

Leaving behind a dumbfounded wizard, Hermione headed directly towards the occupied Slytherin table. Those seated students clustered around the table in their robes and green ties watched her approach in mutual suspicion but otherwise stayed silent when Hermione stopped an arm's length from there, save for one certain individual. Naturally.

Putting his finest sneer upon his visage, Draco Malfoy at the head of the table supremely sure his prefect position, pureblood ancestry, and do-you-know-who-my-father-is arrogance would protect him then loudly declared at Hermione, "Go away, you filthy mudblood- GAHK!"

That final yelp, however muffled, was still delivered at sufficient volume to override the indrawn gasps from the rest of the hall at hearing such an obscene insult, the worse thing you could call any muggleborn witch or wizard. Particularly when these gasps turned into shocked shouts at seeing what happened next to Draco. Staggering onto his feet from his position at the Slytherin table, Draco clapped both hands to his mouth, but he was unable to stop spewing from there a continuous flow of muddy liquid.

With yells of alarm, the Slytherins closest to Draco got sprayed with mud which splattered all over their clothes and hair. A speedy abandonment of their house table soon had a wild-eyed Draco standing alone at the head of the table, spitting and ejecting mouthfuls of water intermixed with soil whenever he couldn't keep his lips shut together. Glaring around the Great Hall where three-fourths of the students were laughing at him and the remainder by the main doors were regarding him in disgust, Draco noticed Hermione at the other end of the table smirking at him.

Accompanied by a screech of sheer rage which coated most of the tabletop with dripping mud, Draco pointed at the triumphant Gryffindor. In between even more sprays of sludge, Draco managed, "HERRRRR!" _Blat!_ "SHE-" _Glup!_ "-DID IT!" _Thwaaark!_

The room immediately hushed (save for even more Slytherin disgorging) to let Hermione gleefully answer to the Great Hall at large, "Well, for once Draco Malfoy got it right! Yes! I spent all last night sneaking into the library's restricted section to learn everything I could about the castle wards! For some reason a hundred years ago, the anti-bullying measures got taken down, but I put them back up again!"

Pausing to savor her revenge, Hermione was interrupted in this by another female's sickly-sweet voice ranting at the top of her lungs.

"Hem, hem! You horrible child, how dare you mistreat the son of a personal friend to the Minister of Magic! Stop it at once or you'll be expelled!"

Hermione glowered at where a wrathful Professor Umbridge was leaning across the top of the Staff Table and shaking a fleshy fist at the younger woman. In her own syrupy tone, Hermione uttered a concise, "Can't."

From where he was witnessing all this in awed fascination with Ron at the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter saw Umbridge's toad-like features then turn a purple color matching his Uncle Vernon's facial tints whenever that fat man thoroughly lost his temper about a detested nephew. Umbridge then bellowed, "Don't you dare tell me that! If you think your wand won't be snapped for this-!"

"Have you spent too much time squatting on your lily pad so you went deaf?" Hermione shouted back. "I didn't say I wouldn't, just that I _can't!_ I put enough power in the spell to stop bullies so that it's now a permanent part of the wards! The only way to turn it off now is to get rid of the whole wards and create new ones! Since it took all of the Hogwarts Founders to do this a thousand years ago, good luck with your own try!"

Umbridge's voice now reached decibel levels capable of hurting cowering dogs' ears a mile away. "Ridiculous! There's no way a disgusting muggleborn like you could- You stole someone's magic! That's got to be it! Admit your crimes, you little mudblood- UUGGHHH!"

This time, Umbridge's spray of mud spewing out from her gaping mouth failed to splash her table neighbors, since Professor Sprout and Madame Hooch were both quick enough on their feet to leap sideways out of range from their chairs.

An impressed audience then stared at where Hermione was herself observing with a faint smile both a still-heaving Umbridge and her blond companion in their shared misery. This scene was soon broken by the Headmaster's soft cough.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger, but I'd like to be certain. Your spell is indeed permanent? Does that mean Mr. Malfoy and Professor Umbridge are sadly doomed to-"

"Oh, no," Hermione rushed to reassure Dumbledore looking remarkably deadpan. "The first part will last only for an hour."

There was now absolute stillness in the Great Hall. Even Draco and Umbridge managed to clamp shut their mouths in sudden alarm, while they and the rest of the crowd warily gazed at where Hermione was shrugging her shoulders.

" _Most_ people won't need more than a single lesson, I'm sure. Of course, there's always the chance for the really stupid bullies to forget what happened to them and do it all over again. No more than that, though. It'd take somebody dumber than even a troll to risk a _third_ time." As if she'd been struck by a very happy thought, Hermione grinned nearly ear-to-ear with a decidedly evil expression.

Unfortunately, the girl did this directly at where Umbridge was trying in vain to wipe away brown dribbles seeping from the corners of the held-tight older woman's lips. Her temper instantly snapping like a yanked thread, Umbridge went for her wand.

With his Seeker reflexes, Harry managed to draw his own wand much more faster and he was about to shout out a "Stupefy!" to stop that toad from cursing Hermione. Except, there wasn't really any point, since Umbridge's slippery, mid-encrusted hand lost her grip on this woman's wand in the middle of it being yanked out of a pink coat pocket. The older witch's wand went sailing away out of reach, dropping with a clatter onto the floor of the Great Hall.

Another wave of raucous laughter washed throughout the room. Maddened even further by this jeering of those she considered her inferiors, Umbridge screamed at Hermione through yet more sprays of liquefied muck, "YOU- YOU- MUDBLOOD!"

Everyone froze, including Umbridge. Her eyes widened at suddenly feeling her mouth to be empty of that vile mud…until that space was then promptly refilled with a completely different substance. One that made Umbridge devotedly wish for the previous mud to come back, because what was now in her mouth had a flavor _exactly_ the same as the organic material produced by an entirely different bodily orifice of this witch.

In short, it tasted like shit.

The sight, the smell, and above all the sounds of Umbridge collapsing onto the Staff Table and proceeding to vomit what looked like the contents of a clogged loo at the worse Knockturn Alley men's room caused every upright occupant to stampede in unison out through the main entryway of the Great Hall. Once they were all clear, the double doors were slammed closed, thankfully hiding what was still going on inside.

No, strike that. A few seconds later, one door was opened a crack, and Draco Malfoy along with his nonstop mud-mouth was briskly shoved back into the room. Again, the Great Hall door was shut and hit with a multiplicity of anti-Alohomora charms by all there with a ready wand. Just in case.

In the crowded hall antechamber stuffed with Hogwarts students and staff save for the respectful space where Albus Dumbledore and Hermione Granger were standing, the Headmaster was tiredly cross-examining an unrepentant Gryffindor. "How long will the effects last, Miss Granger?"

"Like I said before, an hour for, er, both. After that, it'll stop."

Dumbledore gave his forehead a weary rub with one hand. "Very well. Mipsy, Blitt!"

At that command, two of the Hogwarts house-elves popped into existence by the Headmaster. They both looked up at where the aged wizard was regarding these little creature waiting for orders. Without further ado, Dumbledore ordered, "Blitt and Mipsy, take Mr. Malfoy and Professor Umbridge respectively to separate bathrooms not normally used. Provide towels, cushions, plus whatever else might be necessary, along with replacement garments for them when it's over. Burn everything they leave behind. Oh, and tell the other elves to clean the Great Hall from top to bottom. That's all. You may go."

"Yes, Headmasters Dumbledores," the two elves glumly replied in their squeaky voices, pointy ears drooping at the awful tasks they'd just been commanded to perform. The magical creatures then vanished from sight with identical _pop!_ sounds.

Thinking that Hogwarts' latest bout of chaos had now come to an end, the crowd began to scatter back to their classrooms, only to pause in this to watch where Dumbledore was guardedly examining Hermione where this witch and wizard were still facing each other in the antechamber. They all heard then a final question from the Headmaster.

"I believe you mentioned a _third_ consequence of harassment among the castle occupants, is that correct, Miss Granger?"

Hermione just nodded. It took the lifting of a single bushy eyebrow by an otherwise-silent Dumbledore to make her admit, "Yes, but unlike the first and second result of saying _that_ word, the third won't last for more than five minutes in their mouths."

"And why should this be so, young lady?"

Instead of replying right away, Hermione glanced around the other people until she found who she was looking for lurking within hearing range in a shadowy antechamber corner. Then, she turned to face an awaiting Headmaster to tell him and everyone else avidly listening, "Because there's no point for anything longer, not with concentrated hydrochloric acid."

Unseen by anyone else, Professor Snape flinched at where he was skulking, only to sternly remind himself that how he treated those dunderheads was _not_ bullying. The half-imaginary sensation of the bottom of his tongue beginning to burn told him quite different, though.

Slinking away, a Potions Master contemplated that perhaps his teaching methods might require a minor bit of tweaking into actual education for at least any class for which Miss Granger was attending…


	2. Chapter 2

Albus Dumbledore was uncomfortably aware of how this resembled his last meeting with another Hogwarts student in the Headmaster's office several weeks ago. The young person seated in their chair in front of his desk was also showing remarkable calm despite all the castle upheavals since then, which only made Dumbledore even more worried. Perhaps it was finally time to inform Harry Potter of all the secrets the older wizard had been keeping from this boy for the last decade? For his own good, of course, but Albus doubted Mr. Potter would indeed feel that way. Mmm, how to best broach the subject to sufficiently distract him-

Harry tossed onto the top of Dumbledore's desk today's edition of the Daily Prophet he'd brought along with him while entering the office. The newspaper fell open to the front page where in a series of magically animated photographs taken yesterday at the Wizengamot, Hermione Granger was expelled from Hogwarts, had her wand snapped, and got sentenced to permanent exile from the British wizarding world.

"Would you like to explain why you didn't do anything to stop all that, Headmaster?" inquired Harry in a composed tone which yet had an undercurrent of bubbling fury lurking within.

*Oh, dear.* Dumbledore prepared himself for the explosive confrontation he'd been expecting ever since the morning delivery of the mail by the post owls. Hopefully, things could be smoothed over by an adequate amount of cajolery and other persuasive arguments from him for Harry to see things for the best. *Better get the worse out of the way immediately.*

"Harry, I'm truly sorry but my hands were completely tied. Miss Granger's manipulation of the castle wards which led to the resulting effects upon the son of a Wizengamot member and also a Ministry of Magic undersecretary were in the court's view deserving of the awarded verdict. I assure you, it took all of my influence to persuade them not to send your friend to Azkaban-"

"Yeah, that must've really been tough," sarcastically interrupted Harry. "It's not like you're the Hogwarts Headmaster and the Wizengamot's Chief Warlock again, somebody who could squash the charges right away! Oh, wait, you are! Guess that had to be more than you could handle, not like years ago after my mum and dad got killed, getting completely off an actual Death Eater from all his crimes and then inviting this greasy-haired git to teach here! Wonder who that could be? I think his name starts with S-N-A-"

"Harry!" chided the Headmaster, taken aback a trifle by the present impertinence shown by someone who'd always been respectful of the elderly wizard. " _Professor_ Snape has my full confidence, and that's the end of it! Getting back on topic, Miss Granger admitted in front of the entire Great Hall what she did and then threatened a potentially fatal consequence for anyone who further insulted the muggleborn students. However her motives, this was unacceptable and forced me to take action. I must keep everyone secure in Hogwarts as best as I may, following my vows as the castle's protector-

"Great job there as always, Headmaster," again broke in Harry with the same cynical tone as before. "Putting aside a few things like hiring in my first year a DADA teacher who happened to be Voldemort himself and then taking on staff _another_ imposter during the Tournament who also tried to kill me, you've never bothered to even try to stop the constant bullying! Is it any wonder that Hermione finally snapped and took matters in her own hands?"

"Miss Granger endangered the rest of the students when she set her spell to put acid in peoples' mouths!" sharply responded Dumbledore now becoming somewhat irritated at this disparaging reminder of his own earlier failures to safeguard Hogwarts.

Harry lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "Has this actually happened to anyone yet?"

"Of course not! Nobody is that unwise…" Dumbledore trailed off in his rejoinder, contemplating all he knew about Hermione Granger.

Harry muttered under his breath, "Could've fooled me, what with all the magical idiots around."

Seeing Dumbledore's puzzled look at hearing this, Harry dryly continued in a louder voice. "I mean, Ron once told me how his brother Fred gave him a wizarding candy called an Acid Pop that perfectly described the results of sucking on it! A real hole was burned in Ron's tongue, but all that happened to Fred was having their mum hit him with a broom! So, just why'd you expel Hermione for something the Weasley twins would've gleefully done first if they'd come up with it on their own?"

The Headmaster sighed, before admitting, "Alas, the main issue with the Ministry pressing charges was Professor Umbridge's, er, undignified reaction-"

"She started it!"

Continuing as if Harry hadn't loudly objected, Dumbledore told him, "-which in her own words, jeopardized the authority of the Minster's office-"

" _What_ authority? Fudge won't even admit Tommy-boy's back, but he'll set the Dementors on anyone who says otherwise! Just like the toad did with me and Dudley!"

Determined to finish, the Headmaster plowed on, "-which still must be respected lest our society begin to question the Ministry's ability to defend them against those who intend harm to the innocent. We cannot afford this to occur in such perilous times, Harry!"

Rather than being impressed by Dumbledore's grand closing statement, Harry snorted, "You mean, the sheep might start to think for themselves? Like finally understanding Fudge and his cronies couldn't pour piss out of a cauldron with the instructions written on the bottom? Or, half the Wizengamot bribed their way out of Azkaban in the last war with a pile of gold and a stupid Imperius defense? You know, Professor, I'm really beginning to wonder if _anything_ is enough to set them off and actually fight for their lives instead of depending on a teenager with a wand who's fed up to his back teeth about those cowards!"

This wasn't good, an alarmed Dumbledore inwardly realized. So far, Harry had been properly guided towards his destined fate, but the mere occasion of Miss Granger leaving the Boy-Who-Lived's company appeared to have shaken this young man's faith in the wizarding world. It seemed as if Albus needed to at last enlighten Mr. Potter about a certain prediction made by Sybill Trelawney so many years ago. Yes, yes, that should place Harry back on the path as the foreseen savior to their world. Mind you, this knowledge abruptly absorbed by the lad seated in his chair and currently giving Albus a very suspicious look should satisfactorily divert Harry from thinking further about a departed Gryffindor student with bushy hair.

Decisively squaring his shoulders, Dumbledore bestowed his most serious expression upon a suddenly wary Harry, to then intone, "My dear boy, I believe it's time you need to hear this. When Professor Trelawney applied to the post of the Divination teacher at Hogwarts shortly before you were born, she showed her Seer power by speaking a true prophecy. It went like this: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_ "

There was absolute silence in the Headmaster's office for the next few moments. Dumbledore carefully watched how Harry absorbed the news he was ordained to defeat Lord Voldemort. Hopefully, the boy would miss for now this meant Harry was also doomed to die, but it was all for the greater good, however tragic to the House of Potter. Indeed, the young man appeared to be giving off a quite impassive mood about this incredible information. With actual interest, Dumbledore waited for Harry to react in some way.

However, the first question from the younger wizard was one which Albus hadn't quite expected.

"Who else knows about this?"

Bemused that Harry hadn't erupted right away but was instead surprisingly enough acting in a quite unruffled manner, Dumbledore replied, "For now, you and I are the only ones aware of the full prophecy which is protected in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry. Voldemort knows the first part of the prophecy, and he'll do anything to learn the rest."

Albus braced himself lest Harry ask exactly how their feared enemy had done that. It was more than likely that Professor Snape wouldn't survive the experience, but if necessary, that Potions Master could be sacrificed-

"What about my parents?"

"What?" Dumbledore gaped at Harry. The rare expression of genuine dumbfoundment upon the bearded wizard's face quickly turned into comprehension. "Oh, yes, that's right. I could hardly refrain from telling James and Lily about the prophecy, but they understood why it had to remain a secret. As things turned out, neither Voldemort nor anyone else ever discovered the full version-"

"Wrong." That matter-of-fact interruption from Harry stopped Albus in full flow. He gawked again at the teenager giving him an unfathomable look.

Harry rolled his eyes. "There's somebody else my parents totally trusted, enough to make him my godfather and put me in his care if they died or were hexed into insanity like Neville's parents. My dad wrote a letter to Sirius with the prophecy in it and sent this letter to my godfather's vault in Gringotts to make sure it'd be protected until Sirius read it. Except, this never happened because of Peter betraying my parents and Sirius spending the next decade in Azkaban."

Dumbledore was shocked at this latest news. He'd done his best to maintain absolute confidentiality about the prophecy since that 1981 Halloween, but this risked everything! The Headmaster anxiously leaned forward in his chair and appealed to his guest.

"Harry, you must tell Sirius to say _nothing_ about the prophecy! I greatly fear what Voldemort might do if the word gets out-"

"It's too late, sir. I'm not sure about the exact time, but right now, Sirius should be finished at the French Ministry of Magic, giving them all his memories besides the ones which provided him innocent of betraying my parents."

"WHAT?!" bellowed Dumbledore, staring with horror at a smirking Harry, who enthusiastically nodded.

"Oh, yeah. That's also where Hermione is now too, ever since she got kicked out of here. Want to bet she's overflowing the memory device with everything that happened to her at Hogwarts since the troll incident?" Harry watched with immense glee across the office desk at where the Headmaster appeared to be in the throes of a minor heart attack.

Fighting past the crushing pressure in his chest, Dumbledore managed, "Harry! This can't be! Voldemort will take advantage of this idiocy!"

Harry tilted his head in thought about that warning, beginning to rub at his forehead with one hand. He kept on doing this, staring fixedly all the while at a pasty-faced Albus whose own gaze was eventually drawn to where Harry had brushed away the hair formerly dangling over…unmarked skin?

"Where's your scar?" gasped Dumbledore.

Giving one last annoyed flick at his head, Harry brought down these fingers and glowered at the bewildered Headmaster. "Funny thing, that. You know the blood wards around my relatives' house at Privet Drive? The ones you set up to keep me protected there while I got treated by the Dursleys as detested magical scum? To be fair, since I had an actual piece of a Dark Lord's soul right in my head all the time, they had good reason to be scared about this, even if they didn't know about it! But you did!"

At that point, Harry was shouting at the top of his lungs towards a stunned Dumbledore. "Oh, and don't forget, you sent me back there again this summer! Even after I told you what happened to me in that cemetery! Voldemort took my blood for a new body! Basically, he could've showed up at the house at any time after that without any problem from the blood wards! Trust me, you don't want to hear what Sirius and Hermione called you when they found all about this in the Black library at Grimmauld Place when packing it up for the move to France before her trial!"

Lowering the volume a fraction then, Harry's voice turned into a malevolent growl. "They _really_ still don't like you, Headmaster, and I'm on their side. Even if you set up things totally by mistake to take out Tommy-boy for once and all. Want to hear how that happened, the so-called 'power he knows not' I had? All it took was for me to stand well outside the Dursley house and say out loud that I didn't think of it as my home any more! Bam! The blood wards went down like Malfoy falling off his broom and hitting face-first the Quidditch pitch. My scar burst like a popped pimple, too. That meant since Voldemort had my blood in him, the wards must've wiped him out with no more trouble than swatting a fly. Have Snivellus check it out if you need to, but for me, I don't care any more. The war's over and I'm leaving!"

Dumbledore dazedly shook his head in denial. He blinked at where Harry was shooting him a glare of pure contempt. Gathering up his scattered wits, the Headmaster tried, "But the prophecy…this isn't how I planned…what did you mean, you're leaving?!" That last question came out in an aghast whimper.

Arising from his chair, Harry imperiously stared down at the upturned bewhiskered countenance of the Hogwarts Headmaster. The younger wizard sneered, "Why on earth should I stay? The second it's confirmed Tommy-boy's dead and gone, everybody'll start saying they knew all along I could do it, or start whispering sooner or later I'll be the next Dark Lord! No, thank you. Madame Maxime at Beauxbatons arranged for me to finish school there, along with Hermione. Sirius already bought a chateau nearby with room for us all, including her parents. Well, have fun cleaning up the whole mess before you get thrown out of Hogwarts and all your other positions on your ear. I've got my own appointment in Paris with their pensieves. From the sound of it, every other magical newspaper outside Britain is waiting for my memories of a lifetime of abuse which _you_ started the day after my parents died-"

"NO!" Dumbledore roared, leaping up to his feet with unexpected agility for a century-plus wizard. "You're staying at Hogwarts! I'm your magical guardian, and that means I can control where you live and whom you speak to! If necessary, I'll lock down the entire castle to keep you safe from Voldemort!"

Regarding the near-gibbering Headmaster with a faint touch of pity, Harry counted off on his fingers. "One, not staying. Two, Sirius never gave up his guardianship probably because you didn't have two seconds in your busy life to pop over to prison and have a nice chat with him. Three, get stuffed."

Dumbledore smoothly drew his wand. "I'm sorry, my dear boy, but you're clearly not in your right mind. A nice bit of obliviation should work wonders with that-"

"Dobby," Harry casually called out to thin air.

 _Pop!_

From out of nowhere, a yellow mannikin dressed in a cut-down towel materialized in the room. Standing at knee level next to Harry, Dobby the house-elf pointed straight at Dumbledore a skinny finger sparkling with powerful magical energies at the tip of this digit.

In a piping voice containing within itself the prospect of imminent serious violence, Dobby asked, "Is Old Whiskers being naughty?"

Watching how the Headmaster's wand arm carefully descended to fall at the wizard's side to express his absolute pacifism at the moment lest he get blasted entirely through the rear tower wall, Harry snickered, "Not any more. Right, Albus?"

Instead of replying to this, Dumbledore tried one final attempt to persuade Harry to stay, "What about your friends in the castle, Harry? Are you going to abandon them?"

Harry just shrugged, "You mean Ron in particular, whose mum won't even hear of him going off to foreign parts like Bill and Charlie? Well, the last couple of weeks made me think about whether I wanted to spend the next few years learning magic with either him or Hermione. It wasn't all _that_ hard a decision."

Not bothering to await a reply from the disconsolate oldster, Harry leaned over to take Dobby's free hand. Without further ado, the young wizard and his house-elf disappeared from the office with another _Pop!_ sound.

Dumbledore stood there for a few moments, his jaw angrily clamped shut. Soon enough, the Headmaster put his wand away back in his robes and whirled around to stride over and stop before the tower windows. He unseeingly gazed at the horizon, mind working swiftly at a furious rate. Surely, there must be a satisfactory means to get Harry back and put things right again. After all, he was the great Albus Dumbledore! Merely overlooking a potential weakness of Voldemort couldn't have brought all his plans to total disaster-

His attention abruptly caught by something out beyond the castle, Dumbledore peered again at the Scots hills far off past the lake where Hogwarts was built. There were what looked like out there, just above the hill peaks…spots? More and more and more spots, stretching across the entire horizon-

Finally identifying what was approaching the castle, Dumbledore let out an anguished groan. His shoulders slumping, the wizard went back to his chair, dropped down in there, and put his head in his hands. This last action still didn't block out the sound of fluttering wings growing louder and louder, as every single post owl in the world came nearer while carrying along in their claws numerous Howlers, newspaper copies of the latest Paris magical conference with Monsieur Black and Mademoiselle Granger, more Howlers, panicked messages from the British Ministry of Magic, even more Howlers, and some really nasty inquiries from the International Confederation of Wizards about what their Supreme Mugwump needed to explain about _now_ or risk becoming the most vilified wizard in this organization's entire history.


End file.
